Beyond Reason and Measure
by Ayezur
Summary: Every marriage has two people in it; every story has two sides. Companion piece to Through Long Days of Labor, from Kaoru's POV
1. the time for all your possibilities

**A/n: Hi! Here is a little something to tide everyone over while I finish up Vaster Than Empires, and before I get started on the sequel to Invictus. Is very short, but sweet. Like tasty candy. There will be more of it.**

* * *

"Head!"

Kaoru called out the strike as she paced around the edge of the Maekawa dojo. The students snapped their bamboo blades down in unison, one young man just a beat behind the others. She called out again, watching carefully. He was slow on this one, too. And the third.

She drifted a little closer, looking for the flaw. Ah – there it was. He was holding his wrist too stiffly, forcing his arm to fight the movement of the sword rather than flow with it. She delivered the correction quietly, so as not to shame him. He'd been struggling, and she knew that some of the older students were occasionally unkind about it. Come to think of it, she should probably spar with a few of them this time out, just to keep their heads from getting too inflated.

"Master Kamiya?"

Kaoru looked up. Mr. Maekawa was calling to her. He always called her 'Master Kamiya' in front of the students, although she was still 'little Kaoru' to him everywhere else. The courtesy warmed her: there weren't many swordsmen in Edo who extended it without a reminder, occasionally a firm one. And she could hardly be angry that he only used it in front of the students; after all, he'd known her since she was a little girl. He'd been one of the first people she'd ever sparred with, once her father deemed her skilled enough.

And he'd never failed to take her seriously, not once. After her father's death, that had meant more to her than any of the bland kindnesses her neighbors had offered.

"Fifty more strokes!" she instructed, before leaving the floor.

Mr. Maekawa was standing near the door, resting on his cane. Technically he'd retired from teaching after the incident with Raijuta and handed the school down to his assistant master. That didn't mean he hadn't stayed interested, and it wasn't unusual for him to sit in on the lessons, giving stern advice from the sidelines. His mind was still sharp, he'd insisted more than once; he'd injured his shoulder, not his brain.

"What is it?" Kaoru asked, shoving a sweaty bang away from her forehead.

"Would you mind staying a little while after the lesson is over?" His eyes were bright and secretive. "A matter's come up – it's to do with the responsibilities your father entrusted to me in his will. It's not something that should be discussed here in the dojo, but it should be dealt with sooner rather than later."

Kaoru furrowed her brown, unease clenching in her gut. Mr. Maekawa was her formal guardian, but he rarely did anything with that position – really, it was only a legal fiction, a line filled in on paperwork because doing so was easier than arguing that she shouldn't have to. She owned the dojo outright, since the new government had granted women the right to property, and that was all that she cared about. Having a formal guardian soothed her more conservative neighbors, and Mr. Maekawa could be trusted not to interfere in her life.

"It's nothing serious," he said mildly, then seemed to change his mind. "Well, no. It's quite serious, actually, but I think you'll be pleased. Very pleased indeed."

He gave a mischievous chuckle.

"Mr. Maekawa…" she started to say, and was cut short. He waved his hand back towards the class.

"There's no need to worry, little Kaoru. You'll see. Finish up the lesson, and we'll talk."

Message apparently delivered, he walked away, his cane striking in time with his footsteps. Kaoru glared after him, annoyed; Mr. Maekawa was a good sort, but he _did_ have a prankish streak. But he wouldn't be treating whatever this was so lightly if it was anything to worry about.

There was no helping it, then.

Kaoru sighed and went back to the lesson.

* * *

"Well," Mr. Maekawa said, finally putting his cup aside. "Let's see. How to put this…?"

Kaoru listened intently, glad that he was finally getting down to business. The teacup was only faintly warm in her hands.

They'd begun talking quite some time ago, polite nonsense about the class and her school and the progress of her students, because there were forms to be observed. And – well, she had been out of touch. It wasn't that she'd been neglectful of her duties to him as her father's oldest friend. She'd visited and expressed condolences during his recuperation, and brought the appropriate gift. But between the unexpected trip to Kyoto and that horrible business at the end of the summer she had been quite busy, and what with one thing and another she hadn't really _spoken_ to him for months.

"As you know, Kaoru, your father entrusted me with your well-being." Mr. Maekawa shifted, his leg clearly paining him. Guilt pricked at Kaoru. "I know you and him well enough to know that this meant mainly leaving you alone to live your life as you choose. And I've been glad to do so. Happy, even. However…"

He coughed, as though he found what he planned to say extraordinarily difficult. Kaoru swallowed, unease building in her stomach. Her life had been – _unusual_, lately, that was true, but all that was over now. Surely he couldn't…?

"However," he continued. "There is one issue in which I feel it is quite necessary to, hm, intervene. It really wouldn't be proper to do otherwise. And the gentleman in question quite agrees, to his credit. I encourage you think of this gesture as a sign of his deepest respect."

"What – what do you mean?" Kaoru put down her tea, very slowly, so as not to throw it at something.

"You're nearly seventeen, aren't you? It's time that you gave some real thought to your future, Kaoru: to still be unbetrothed and unmarried at your age is hardly practical. You should start thinking seriously about settling down."

"It's not that I don't want to." Kaoru folded her hands in her lap, studying them: the callouses and the bruises, and her too-short fingernails. "It's just that – well, you _know_ I won't give up father's school, and – and you know as well as I do that most men wouldn't want to marry a sword-teacher. They'd make me stop teaching, stop practicing, and I won't do that for _anything_."

Most men, yes. Except for one. She could think of one man who wouldn't care even the smallest bit, but Kenshin had been so strange since he'd recovered from his injuries that she'd almost given up what little hope she'd had of one day marrying him. In some ways they'd never been closer: he was always nearby, nowadays, and she never had to do more than call out and he would be at her side. At the same time, though, he'd been distant. Somewhere else. Like he was struggling with something, coming to some terrible decision.

And then there'd been that afternoon, just the other day, when she'd come home to find him sitting on the porch and staring into nothing with a letter clutched in his hand, every one of his chores quite unfinished.

Kaoru took in a quick breath.

"Hmm, yes, I'm aware of that issue." Mr. Maekawa cracked his neck idly. "However, I have assurances that the gentleman in question is not opposed to your continuing practice of the sword-arts."

"You've – someone's already approached you?" Her heart sank. She wouldn't accept the suit. Couldn't. Didn't want to.

Though she _should_ marry _someone_, eventually: if she didn't, the Kamiya name would die and her school would pass to Yahiko, not her own children, and that wasn't a _bad_ thing, exactly, but Yahiko wasn't a Kamiya and didn't want to be. And she'd never ask that of him. He was so proud of his name.

One day, perhaps, he'd want to establish his own Myojin branch of the Kasshin ryu, and that would be fine. But there had to be a _Kamiya_ Kasshin or… it wasn't _fair_ that her father's legacy might be lost after only two generations.

Even if there was only one man whom she really _wanted_ to marry.

"Indeed." He smiled genially at her. "Quite a suitable match, in my opinion. He's a pensioned veteran, so you'll have a steady income. Some sword training of his own, as I understand. He seems to be quite skilled. And he's older than you, which is to your advantage; more life experience to lean on. As for his personality, he's the respectful sort, very polite, if a bit quiet. A good balance for your liveliness, I think."

She didn't want to marry anyone except Kenshin. But Kenshin – hadn't asked yet.

It wasn't that she doubted that he felt strongly for her. She couldn't, not after everything they'd been through. But… he _hadn't asked_, and she didn't know why. Maybe he felt unworthy. Or maybe simply didn't want to ask at all, because his feelings for her, strong as they were, weren't the same kind of feelings that she had for him…

"And his family?" Kaoru asked, prevaricating. If nothing else, this proposal did give her an excuse to talk to Kenshin about marriage and family, and maybe she could use that to finally suss out his feelings on the matter.

"All dead, from what I understand. They were never large to begin with, and the Revolution took its toll. He's the last."

"Then he'd be joining my family?" That wasn't so bad. If her suitor wanted to join her family, it would at least put them on reasonably equal footing.

"That's between the two of you, I'd think." The laughing glint was back in Mr. Maekawa's eyes, as though there was a joke here that she wasn't in on. Kaoru frowned.

"Where's he from? Have I met him before?"

"He's not local. Just moved into town a few months ago, in spring. He's been staying at a local dojo, but his circumstances will be changing soon, which is why he's approaching you now. And you've met him quite a few times."

Kaoru narrowed her eyes, suspicion beginning to dawn.

"You haven't told me his name, yet." She said it very slowly. "Who exactly is it that asked for my hand, Mr. Maekawa?"

Mr. Maekawa's smile broke into a full grin, full of the same mischief that lit his eyes.

"Why, your Mr. Himura, of course," he said, entirely too pleased with himself. "And about time, too; if he'd waited a month longer, Dr. Oguni would have won the pool."

* * *

Kaoru stalked home in a state of high dudgeon, kicking the occasional innocent rock out of her way as hard as she could. Most of them went flying off into the bushes; one hit a poor fisherman on the bank in the back of the head. He would have objected, but her expression was enough to warn him off trying.

"_Those two_ – " she fumed, unable to formulate anything more. "Those two – those two – those two _jerks!_"

The most important moment of her life and they'd turned it into a _prank!_ Stupid, insensitive, conspiring _males_ – oh, Kenshin was going to _get it_ when she got home –

When she got home…

Kaoru came to a sudden stop just a few feet away from her gate, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth as her heart skipped suddenly in her chest. She'd have to give Kenshin an answer when she got home, wouldn't she? She hadn't given one at the Maekawa's – just shrieked and thrown on her coat, giving Mr. Maekawa a piece of her mind as she got ready to go home and give _Kenshin_ what-for, because there was no _way_ that those two hadn't been in cahoots over this. Getting her all worked up and _worried_ like that –

"Kenshin, you _jerk!_" she cried, storming through the gate as she did so.

He wasn't home.

The laundry was hanging out to dry, but the house and grounds were empty. Kaoru stood framed by the gateway, her hands on her hips, and swallowed with a suddenly-dry throat.

A quick glance in the kitchen revealed that the tofu bucket was missing. He'd gone to market, then. So he'd be back by dinner time. And until then…

Until then, she just had to wait.

Or she could go after him – meet up with him at the market and – but then she'd have to tell him in front of _everyone_, and she couldn't bear the thought of all those strangers watching. Unless she didn't tell him, which was an option, and actually sounding more and more like a _good_ one. Let him stew for a while, and worry, and think the worst of the situation –

Kaoru was halfway out the gate again when she stopped, again, and turned back towards the house.

Before doing any of that, she needed to take a bath. Dried sweat from the class stuck her uniform to her skin, and her hair was a mess, all disheveled and probably smelly and – and wouldn't that be just _perfect_, accepting his proposal at her sweatiest and most tomboy? A bath was called for, definitely, and a change of clothes, and maybe even some of the cosmetics she'd brought a few months ago in a spate of optimism – or maybe that was too vulgar – and she wasn't entirely sure how to _apply_ any of it –

She went through the motions of preparing a bath with numb fingers, fumbling slightly as she struck flint against tinder to fire the wood under the bathhouse. Immediately after it caught, she reconsidered: wouldn't this just take more time, when she wanted to meet him coming home? Maybe she should just clean off and rinse, and skip the soak – oh, but maybe she should keep the fire lit anyway, maybe _he'd_ want a bath but – no, no, that was dangerous, the house could burn down.

The fire had caught while she was dithering and was roaring away quite merrily. It would be a waste to put it out now.

She'd just have a very _quick_ soak.

Kaoru rinsed and scrubbed fast enough that the water was barely tepid when she finally climbed in, and she shivered a little at the unexpected coolness. Her skin pricked as she sank up to her neck, then a little lower, letting the water cover her mouth and chin. The surface bubbled as she blew out a stubborn breath, trying for calm. She shouldn't be so work up about this. She needed to be mature, and dignified, the kind of woman who was ready to be a wife and a mother…

A mother…

Her hand crept anxiously over her abdomen, resting lightly across her taut skin. She thought of it swelling, of a child growing there, of her hard muscles softening and stretching to make room for her baby. Her child. _Kenshin's_ child. Hers and Kenshin's – he'd want children. She was sure of that. And it wasn't that she _didn't_ want children, because she did want children. Wanted _his_ children; wanted _him_, now and always, waking and sleeping, every moment of every day that the gods saw fit to send them.

It was just that it was all so… large, suddenly. It was one thing to sigh and dream to herself when it had all seemed like a distant goal. And now it wasn't. Now it was there, waiting for her to take it; he had offered her the only thing he had, the strongest promise he could make. He wanted to marry her. To stay. Forever.

Kaoru flushed, or maybe it was just the water finally heating. Her tense shoulders began to relax and she eased herself deeper into the tub, until the water was nearly touching her nose. Then she giggled, feeling suddenly foolish.

Kenshin had asked her to _marry_ him. Kenshin wanted to _marry_ her. And she was going to say yes, and they were going to be husband and wife, and – and do all the things husbands and wives did, and he was going to stay by her side for always.

He was going to _stay_.

And that thought was bright enough to calm her fluttering nerves, at least for as long as it took to soak the worst of her exhaustion away. Her fingers only shook a little when she dressed.

She came out of the house just inside to see Kenshin step through the gate. For a moment she froze, unable to think of _anything_ – and then she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug so tight and hard that he dropped the tofu, startled.

"You _jerk!_" Her voice broke, wavering, and she didn't care. "You _jerk_, how dare you, of _course_ I'll marry you and that was a _horrible_ trick and I'll never forgive you _ever_."

"Oro?" Kenshin arms wavered at his sides, half-extended and flailing for balance. She grabbed the bangs framing his face and pulled herself up on her toes, the better to glare at him.

"Didn't you _hear_ me?" she demanded. "I _said_ I'll marry you, you horrible – you _jerk_ – even though you _don't_ deserve it."

"Ororo?" But his eyes cleared into understanding even as he stuttered, and then his arms wrapped tight around her waist. He pressed his face to her neck, all lean hardness warm against her, and she felt him smile.

Kaoru's heart beat faster, pounding against her ribs.

"I'm home," he whispered, the words barely more than a grateful sigh against her ear. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

"Welcome back," she said, and didn't need to say anything more.

* * *

Later, over dinner, she told him what had happened and he had the nerve to laugh as he claimed not to have known what Mr. Maekawa was going to do. Kaoru glared at him until he stopped, pulling his face into a solemn mien, and apologized very sincerely for her hurt feelings. She almost forgave him, after that.

That night he walked her to her room before bed, pressing his forehead to hers when he bid her goodnight, and she forgave him completely.


	2. feel this with no introduction

**A/n: Despite illness and a growing fixation with Mass Effect, I bring you this. Remember, this chapter is meant to accompany the second chapter of _Through Long Days of Labor_, so if you're not sure what's going on, read that.**

* * *

Kaoru woke from a dream of warm arms tight around her waist and a rough voice murmuring her name, hot and wanting. She woke with a dry mouth and a peculiar ache deep inside her, and blushed fiercely when she remembered. How they'd gone walking the night before, and how hard he'd pulled her against him afterwards, for only the barest of heartbeats.

The smell of breakfast wafted through the kitchen, tangy and… burnt? She sniffed the air a bit, perplexed. Kenshin never burned food when he cooked. Maybe she was only smelling the fire…

She pulled on her clothes – training clothes, she had a lesson with Yahiko this morning. And then she had to go see Tae in the afternoon; they were doing the rounds looking for wedding outfits today. Or at least they were going to start. It would take a while, and Tae was still arguing in favor of incorporating Western fashions, though Kaoru was almost completely certain she didn't want any.

Kaoru sighed and put her hair up, pulling her bangs down to frame her face. Then, unable to avoid it any longer, she went to breakfast.

* * *

Kenshin was standing over the stove, scratching the back of his neck with a look of such utter befuddlement that Kaoru had to stifle a laugh. He _had_ burned breakfast: the tang of charcoal and burnt fish hung only lightly in the air, but it was still evident.

"Good morning, Kenshin," she said, before embarrassment got the better of her.

"Good morning, Miss Kaoru." He said it automatically, glancing at her only briefly and then looking away. His cheeks were tinged red. It could have been the heat from the kitchen, or it could have been the same kind of blush she felt deep in her bones, spreading tingling through her limbs as she watched his graceful motions. Those same strong, slender arms had come around her only last night, pulling her tight against him until his warmth transmuted into a sparkling heat that had dazzled her blood and made her want to do – things she _did_ want to do but _didn't_. Not yet.

But they would, soon. That was the whole point, wasn't it? She _did_ want – to marry him, to have him with her –

And, well, _with_ her –

She couldn't look at him anymore, so she ducked her head and quickly settled herself at the table, examining her fingers where she twined them close together in her lap. After a few moments of silence – she could almost _feel_ him watching her – the noise of his work resumed and she risked a glance.

Kenshin was standing with his back to her, dishing up the meal. The kitchen was hot and full of steam; his kimono stuck to his skin just lightly enough to outline his shoulders and the trim line of his waist. A few drops of sweat beaded at his temples, darkening his hairline; he'd tied his hair back haphazardly this morning, and the stray strands were plastered against his temple. She was seized with the sudden urge to stand up and brush them back behind his ears.

She stared down at her nervous fingers again, blushing furiously.

He finished his work and turned, the trays balanced neatly across his arms. There was always such absolute confidence in his movements; he understood his body intimately, as a master swordsman should, and used it fearlessly.

"Here, Miss Kaoru." He passed her tray to her. The tips of their fingers overlapped, hers across his, and either the heat of the cookfire was still affecting him or he _was_ blushing. Either way, he couldn't quite seem to meet her eyes.

"Thank you." She didn't want to relinquish their point of contact, so she didn't, and then suddenly the touch had gone on too long and he pulled smoothly away. But his blush deepened as he did, and he looked – the way he had last night, when he'd sprung so suddenly away from her and bowed so deeply. As if he was afraid that he'd crossed some line.

Had he? It wasn't _wrong_ to hug your betrothed, was it? Then again, that hadn't been just a hug, not with the way he'd been shaking against her, his breath hot and his lips soft against her skin. Not with the way she'd wanted to slide her arms up his chest and wrap them around his neck, pull him down into her…

She'd wanted but she hadn't; the fear of overstepping, of _doing something wrong_ – something only a sweaty, violent tomboy would do – had stifled her, made her pull away. And he'd let her go, as she'd known he would.

If she hadn't – if she'd done as she'd wanted to, hauled him across her threshold in her arms…

The food was suddenly impossible to eat, not with him sitting across from her all soft dishevelment and shy glances. She blurted out some excuse – about Yahiko's lesson, and needing to warm up before him, because of something she was teaching – and fled to the safety of her training hall.

* * *

Yahiko was unusually quiet that morning, cleaning the dojo and going through his warm-up without a fuss. Usually he griped about doing his basics, convinced that she was tormenting him particularly no matter how many times he saw her going through her own basics. If anything, she went a little easier on him than she should, given his level; at his age, she was doing a thousand of each strike a day. He only had to do five hundred.

"All right, that's enough of that," she said, once he'd worked up a good sweat. "Let's see how you are at putting it in practice."

They crouched across from each other, swords at ready, and began. He was impetuous, as he always was, rushing in for the strike without testing her guard. She batted him away and he recovered, sliding back on his heel and taking up his stance again. This time he went more slowly, probing – and he made sure to watch her eyes.

Pleased, she let him come inside her guard the next time. He landed a good blow; or it would have been, if she hadn't caught him at the hilt and parried with a simple push, knocking him on his back.

"Hey – !"

"Watch your stance!" she chided. "I shouldn't have been able to do that."

"Jeez…"

He got back up, resetting himself into a proper squared form. His shoulders started to rise up around his ears; then he caught himself and forced them down again.

"Let's go," she said, and darted in. He reacted well – his defense had always been strong – and she chased him around the floor for a little while, marking his timing. There wasn't much to criticize, here; it was his defense that had saved him in his battles so far. On offense he was too reckless, too in love with the excitement of swinging a sword to put the necessary precision behind his technique. So far he'd mainly fought opponents whom he didn't have to hold back against and who didn't take him seriously enough to really defend themselves until it was too late, so that hadn't been a bad thing, but the essence of the Kasshin was absolute control. And in that respect, he was still barely more than an amateur.

"All right, enough."

Yahiko was breathing heavily now, so he probably tired enough not to get carried away on the attack. And if he could gain some control now, when his muscles ached, it would be much easier to have fresh.

"Change of pace," she said briskly. "I'm defending, you're attacking. Try to land a hit on me."

That brightened his day, for a little while. The eager fire that lit up his eyes soon faded as he realized that he _couldn't_ get past her. He threw more and more power into his attacks, getting messier and messier until, finally, she slid her crossed hands under his blade and flipped it away from him.

The bamboo clattered as it hit the floor, halfway across the dojo.

"_Dammit_ – "

"_Control_, Yahiko."

"I'm _trying!_"

"Not good enough!" She rapped his head like she'd swat a puppy, loudly rather than hard. "You get too wrapped up in attacking. It's going to get you hurt one day – or someone else."

"Isn't that the point?" he muttered, glaring sullenly from behind his tangled bangs.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" She propped her hands on her hips, irritation flaring. "How many times do I have to say it? The sword that _protects_. You've been lucky so far, but one day you're going to fight someone who _won't_ be off-guard because you're young. And they're going to hand your ass to you, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself for it. You _must – have – control._"

She punctuated each word with a strike of her hilt against the floor, mimicking her father. How many times had he given the same lecture, with small variations? _Young man's disease_, he'd called it, shaking his head. _It's always the same. Young fools._

"Or worse," she continued, "you'll be fighting someone who _can't_ take all that you're able to dish out, and they'll be seriously hurt."

"So?" He shrugged, acting the rebel. "I mean, if they're fighting _me_, maybe they deserve it."

Kaoru's blood ran cold. She stared at her young student, unable – for the moment – to form words. He glared defiantly up at her.

"How can you say that after everything that's happened?" she asked, a soft sorrow filling her lungs until she could barely breathe. "Could you really come back to me and Kenshin and say that you hurt someone – killed them, maybe – but it didn't matter, because they _deserved_ it? It hasn't been that long since – "

She swallowed, her throat grown tight and sore with grief. Yahiko glanced up at her, shock in his eyes, and she glimpsed something pained and brittle there, something that had nothing to do with teenage arrogance.

Then, to her surprise, he dropped to his knees and bowed formally, his forehead touching lightly against the ground.

"I'm sorry, instructor," he said, and then nothing more. No excuses, no explanations. His voice sounded as tight as she felt.

"Yahiko, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I wasn't thinking. It was a stupid thing to say."

"Is that all?" Her brows drew down over her eyes. This wasn't like Yahiko; when he acted out, there was usually a reason behind it.

"Yeah." He sat back on his heels, looking up at her. "I – I mean. I forgot. Sometimes – I forget what it means, sometimes, to be a swordsman. And I used to figure that it was okay because I'm a kid but I can't do that anymore. No one should go easy on me for it. Least of all you." He shrugged. "'Cause, I mean, you're my teacher."

"What brought this on?" She couldn't help the skepticism; it wasn't like Yahiko to be so thoughtful. He shrugged again.

"I dunno. A lot of things, I guess." He fidgeted, looking down at his fingers. "But, mostly… when you were… gone. I was in a fight with that guy, the one with a cannon on his arm."

"I heard about it." Megumi had told her – well, muttered it in her general direction as she patched up Kenshin on the boat ride home. Megumi complained when she was frightened, and Kenshin had frightened her badly.

"I… I'm pretty sure I almost… well, if Kenshin hadn't shown up, I think it… wouldn't've ended so well, you know? And it made me think, afterwards."

He looked up at her, his eyes very grave. "I kept saying that I didn't wanna be treated like a kid, that I wanted to fight the same as anyone. 'Cause I thought that meant something – but it doesn't mean what I thought it did. It means… maybe you don't win. Maybe you – maybe you even die. But you do it anyway, 'cause someone has to. 'Cause it's right. You and Kenshin, you were always protecting me from that. But now I – I don't wanna be someone you have to protect. I want to protect other people. I want to be strong but not… just to be strong. I want to be strong like you are. You and Kenshin. So please don't go easy on me anymore. Not about the stuff that matters. And I'll try to be worthy of it."

He bowed again, and Kaoru found that she had nothing to say.

"All right," she finally managed. "Let's start again. And slowly, this time. Power and speed will come later."

* * *

The rest of lesson went on without any more interruptions. Yahiko fought in a grim silence, battling with himself in a way that he hadn't since the earliest days of his training, when his hands and feet had rebelliously refused to assume the correct positions, drifting out of alignment and into weakness.

He cleaned the dojo afterwards without being told, and bowed respectfully to her as he left, refusing her offer of lunch. He had a shift starting soon at the Akabeko, and Tae would feed him when he got there.

She thought for a moment about going with him: she was going to spend the afternoon with Tae, after all. But she hadn't told Kenshin not to expect her for lunch, and she wanted to see him again before she left.

He had already set out the meal when she came in, rinsed and dressed for an excursion to town in one of her brighter kimonos. She wouldn't be able to wear a maiden's dress for much longer (and that thought sent excited shivers down her spine); in less than six months, she'd pack them away in paper for her own daughter to wear, one day. Or her granddaughter, if she only had sons – but no, she would definitely have at least one daughter.

There was a vase of flowers on the table, the very last of the summer blooms. She paused for a moment, startled, and then Kenshin stepped in from the kitchen.

"Do you like them?"

She'd known him long enough to catch the bare hint of nerves in voice.

"Oh – yes! I do. I just – I hadn't realized anything was still in bloom. Where did you find them?"

"Ah, well, it wasn't that difficult, that it wasn't…" A vague non-answer, which meant that he'd really had to go looking. But there was a pleased light in his eyes, one that seemed to grow even brighter as his gaze lingered on her face. "Will you be going out again this afternoon?"

She nodded, blushing. He settled himself at the table, not across from her where the flowers would obstruct the view but just around the corner, very nearly at her side.

"Tae and I are going clothes shopping," she continued, taking a bite of her meal. "Or, well, we're starting to. It might take a while."

"Oh?" He sounded interested; she thought for a moment that he couldn't be, not in silly feminine frippery, and then remembered what he'd said last night as they sat under the stars. That he didn't mind, because it was important to her. Because it made her happy.

And it seemed to her – seeing how intent his gaze was on her, how his whole being seemed to be focused on her presence – that he couldn't be lying. Would never lie. Not about this.

If something made her happy, then it mattered to him, even if it wasn't something he'd normally care about. He'd been through so much; sometimes, she'd think of the things he'd told her and her heart would seize with cold. She couldn't imagine the things he _hadn't_ spoken of.

And all he wanted was her happiness.

So she told him: about the plans, about Yahiko, about her teaching, and he listened. He offered opinions, sometimes – mostly about swordsmanship – but mostly he just _listened_, calm and caring and always, always gentle. It was nice.

After lunch, as they were clearing the table together, she hesitated at the entrance to the kitchen. He put the dishes he was holding in the sink and turned to face her.

"Is something wrong, Miss Kaoru?"

"Um. About last night…" she started to say, tangling her fingers in the tip of her sleeve. "Well. I mean. We _are_ – you're my fiancée, now, so, I mean, if you want to – to hug me…"

She couldn't go any further. Her cheeks were burning as it is. She'd _liked_ it when he held her; liked the feel of him warm and ardent against her. And she _wanted_ to wait and do things properly, she really did – but she also didn't. She wasn't sure which one she wanted more.

"I mean. It should be all right," she finally managed to finish, somewhat lamely.

"Miss Kaoru." He took a handful of steps towards her, crossing the kitchen until he was almost, but not quite, too close to her. His throat worked. "One is – that is to say – "

He started to reach for her hand. She closed the space, taking firm hold of his broad palm, his graceful fingers, and felt rather than saw him relax.

"…whatever you want," he said, something hot and not at all frightening in his eyes. "Only that."

She couldn't help her fond smile.

"I knew _that_," she said, stepping into the curve of his arm. "Goof."

He smiled against her skin as he hugged her close.

* * *

The afternoon went well; by the end of it, Kaoru and Tae had a shortlist of clothiers to investigate further. That night she and Kenshin sat very close together as they drank their evening tea, and when her hand reached out to cover his, he turned his over and curled his fingers around her palm.


	3. make do with whatever you've got

The clothier said something witty and Tae responded, covering her mouth in a ladylike titter. They both glanced over at Kaoru. She started, wracking her brain to try and remember what they had been talking about. No luck; her mind was thoroughly elsewhere.

She smiled in appreciation of whatever had been said and, thank heaven, that was enough. They resumed their happy banter, and Kaoru lapsed again into her own thoughts.

It was two days before her wedding and Kaoru was supposed to be _happy_. She was supposed to be a ball of fluttering nerves, giggling and anxious and sparkling with joy. Not _afraid_ – not really.

But she was afraid, because something was wrong – something was haunting Kenshin, disrupting his sleep and weighing down his shoulders until he _slouched_ (and Kenshin never slouched, _never_) and he wouldn't talk to her about it. And maybe she shouldn't have been surprised by that … no, she _did_ have the right, every right in the world. He was her betrothed. If he couldn't share his burdens with _her_, then –

Her fingers clenched in her gown.

She'd known who she was marrying. Kenshin was a very private sort of person, too private sometimes; she'd always known that there would be things in his life, memories and old wounds that she would never get to see, secrets that he would never share, and that was _fine_. None of those things mattered, not anymore: he was here and he was hers and that was the only thing she cared about. But there was – had always been – a difference between when he chose not to share something and when he _hid_ something, and the latter… had never meant anything good.

Simply choosing not to share was one thing. But _hiding_ something from her, keeping her away from some old bit of darkness that was rearing up to strike at his heels, that was –he wasn't _trusting_ her, not even enough to say _this is something I have to deal with myself_. And she thought they'd moved past that, months ago when Enishi had surged out from the darkness and put them all in danger, when Kenshin had gathered them and said that they had the right to know what this was all about –

Maybe she'd been fooling herself. Maybe that was the price – for all his sweetness, for all his love, he would always look at her and see someone to be protected, cherished like a doll on a shelf. Not a partner. Not an equal.

Kaoru bit her lip idly, turning her cup of lukewarm tea in her hands. The liquid swirled one way as she moved the cup another. Like her and Kenshin. So much a part of each other, now – she couldn't imagine her world without him, and she had to believe that he felt the same way – defining each other, but not quite meeting. Not quite in harmony.

Maybe that was just the way things were going to be.

She could live with that, right? Kenshin was – beautiful, and perfect, and everything she'd ever wanted and most women put up with far worse than a husband who lapsed, now and again, into distracted brooding. She was spoiled, that was what it was. Expecting too much of him. He was only a man, after all.

Anyway, he'd given his word that he wouldn't leave her again. That was enough. That was all she needed.

"…Kaoru?" Tae was looking at her quizzically. Kaoru flushed, suddenly aware that both Tae and Mr. Yamano were staring at her.

"Sorry." Kaoru put down her cup. "I didn't catch that…?"

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mr. Yamano said knowingly, an arch glint in his eyes. Kaoru flushed, knowing that he'd misunderstood the situation and equally uncertain how to get herself out of it.

"Don't tease, Mr. Yamano." Tae giggled. "Our Kaoru's very shy, you know."

"A few butterflies in the stomach are perfectly normal," the clothier responded, nodding sagely. "I've never seen a bride without them, not once in my twenty years. There's nothing to be concerned with." His voice was very kind, and that made Kaoru's blush worst. "I'm sure Mr. Himura is a fine man."

"He is," she blurted out, unable to stand it any longer. "And I'm not nervous, exactly – "

_But he's not sleeping, and I know he's having nightmares again, and he's not talking to me about it, and every time I try to ask what's wrong he puts me off with that smile and some act of kindness and a don't-worry-Kaoru and – _

And that wasn't what she wanted from their marriage. She wanted to be his wife, his _partner_ – not Miss-Kaoru-who-must-be-protected.

" – it's just, well, it's…"

_That I'm probably expecting too much_, she thought quietly, and something leaden settled in her stomach. She, of all people, knew how imperfect he was.

"It's a big change," Tae said, leaning over to pat Kaoru on the hand. "But don't worry! Anyone can see how much he cares about you. You're very lucky."

"…yes," Kaoru finished lately. "I am. Very lucky."

And greedy, to ask for more when she'd already been given so much. A fiancé who loved her, who loved her school, who would never dream of telling her to quit her life's calling. A good man, a _kind_ man who saw nothing wrong with her sweaty tomboy ways or her violent temper, her unwomanly impatience. She'd thought that she might never marry: that if she _did_ – if she could find no student worthy of adoption (or willing to _be_ adopted; Yahiko, too, was the last of his line) to carry on the school – then she would have to find some youngest son of a poor family, someone willing to marry into the Kamiya and shed his name for hers, and she knew how difficult those marriages could be, especially when she had no direct male relatives to back her if he thought himself unmanned by the conceit.

She was very, _very_ lucky. And she had to remember that, and let Kenshin have his fits of distance. It was what a proper wife would do.

* * *

When they stepped out of the clothier's shop, blinking in the bright spring sunlight, Mr. Hiko was waiting for them. Kaoru wasn't surprised. Kenshin may not have expected his teacher to reply to their invitation, much less actually show up; she knew better. There was a certain weight in the way Kenshin viewed him, a view distorted by their strange, bittersweet history. Old resentments, ancient guilts, and if Kenshin had asked Kaoru would have told him that _of course_ their relationship was difficult, of course their conversations were strained.

They were, after all, father and son. An old story, and one that no family seemed to tire of telling.

He asked his he could steal a moment of her time with the same remote look that he'd worn nearly a year ago, when she'd stumbled up to his small cabin with her heart in her throat and her tongue frozen numb behind clenched teeth as Kenshin had walked past her without even a nod.

_I know you're acquainted with Kenshin, but why are you here?_

She'd had no answer, then, at least not one that she could give. _To see Kenshin_ had been all that she could muster, all that seemed important, and she'd wondered if this hard man could possibly care, could ever see that it was more than sentiment driving her.

He'd hidden his eyes behind his bangs before responding. _Just like Kenshin_, she'd thought, and begun to understand.

She'd told him then that she believed in second chances, and she still believed in them now. And what did it matter if Kenshin sometimes grew distant and cool, if sometimes he had nightmares and didn't dare to share them? It was a small price to pay, really, for all that he'd brought into her life – joy and love and – and _fulfillment_ in a way she'd never thought was possible, not for her. Not for Koushijiro's wild daughter, boy-in-a-kimono, a once-cute novelty who'd overstayed her welcome.

Her jaw ached.

"Of course," she said, with a bright smile. "There's a tea shop nearby, if you'd like."

"No, thank you." He nodded towards a bench set under a blossoming cherry tree. Kenshin had been right, after all – the blossoms had come just in time for the wedding, a graceful riot of delicate pinks. "This shouldn't take too long."

Tae went on to their next appointment, promising to make Kaoru's excuses for her. Sometimes Kaoru thought that Tae was more excited about the wedding than she was – but then again, she and Tae had been in the same boat when it came to marital prospects. Despite the change in era, women of business and property were still suspect, still something not-quite-right, and that had been one of the things that had formed their friendship. Two women against the world, holding to what was _theirs_ and willing to sacrifice a future husband and family to do so.

Except Kaoru had found a way around it, and that gave Tae a reason to hope there might be someone out there for her who wouldn't balk at her independence. Kaoru hoped that it was true. Tae was lonely, though she never showed it, and she deserved happiness.

Kaoru settled next to Mr. Hiko on the bench, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Mr. Hiko braced his arms against his knees, his shoulders relaxing in what could have been a sigh, deeply suppressed.

"I wanted to thank you," he rumbled, after a long pause to watch the blossoms waver in the wind.

"Thank me?" Kaoru glanced over at him. His eyes were fixed on the blossoms; there was a weariness bordering on regret in his face, the sense of someone putting down a cherished burden.

He snorted. "You know perfectly well. You saved that idiot's life," he said bluntly. "If you hadn't taken him in, he'd never have found any peace. For that, I owe you."

Then he looked her over, assessing her with a glance. "Something's troubling you."

His gaze was heavy and calm against her skin, calculating, and she slumped a little under the weight of it.

"It's the idiot, isn't it?" Mr. Hiko said. "What has he done this time?"

"Nothing." She couldn't stop the slight, ironic twist of her mouth.

Nothing, except wake her with a strangled scream that had sent her lurching out of bed, grabbing her sleeping robe tight around her. She'd found him stumbling towards her room, his eyes blearily and dazed with sleep and nearly fallen with the force of his grip when he'd flung his arms around her, holding her as if he thought she might vanish.

And then he didn't tell her _why_. She saw the hollow pits under his eyes growing darker, his skin growing paler with lack of sleep, and still he would not tell her why, and she.. tried to ask. But he made it so hard – he was so _good_ at deflecting, distracting, finding something else to do, some important chore –

He didn't want her to know. Didn't want her involved.

He never did.

_Why is he even bothering to marry me, then?_ she thought, before she could quash it: the thing she'd circled around, not daring to touch, afraid of what she might see if she drew it into the light. Why marry her, if he wouldn't let her share his burdens? If he couldn't even _talk_ to her about something as wretchedly simple as a bad dream…?

"He never did have much sense," Mr. Hiko rumbled, and let out a hoary sigh like an ancient lion. "The nightmares… when did they start?"

"What?" Kaoru turned to face him, startled. How did he – ?

"I know my apprentice," he cut in. "He's been sleeping badly, and he doesn't look nearly content enough for me to think you've been anticipating the wedding."

He smirked a little at her strangled, indignant noise.

"Besides, I've already spoken to him about it. But I want to hear, from you – how long?"

"…a week or so." Her eyes narrowed. "And what do you mean, you've already spoken to him?"

"Just as I said. What did you think we discussed, pottery?" He raised a sarcastic brow at her. "The last thing I need is for that idiot to show up and demand to move back in. He's _your_ problem now, and I intend to see that he stays that way."

"Is that so?" She crossed her arm. "In that case, you shouldn't be interfering, should you?"

"Consider it a wedding gift," he responded. "I'm saving you time, girl. Now tell me why you let it drag on this long."

His tone was casual, flippant even, as though he was inquiring after nothing of any particular importance and – after a week of Kenshin's withdrawal, of her own fears, of worrying despite all reason that he didn't truly _want_ the marry her, or that their marriage would be something cold and distant –

She snapped her head around and glared at him.

"_Let_ it?" she demanded. "What was I supposed to do, _beat_ it out of him?"

"Why not?" He gave her a sardonic grin. "You know how thick that idiot's head is."

"Because – " she started to say, and then stopped herself.

Because that was what she had always done. Held back. Waited for him.

_I don't care about people's pasts_.

And she _didn't_. But it would be nice if, sometimes, he would just let her in a little bit farther –

A selfish thing to want, when he'd already bent so far for her.

"Because?" Mr. Hiko watched her with a dark, careful gaze.

"Because he should tell me himself!" she finished finally, crossing her arms. "If it's something he really wants me to know – "

"As if that idiot would." Mr. Hiko snorted. "Listen to me, girl."

His eyes were suddenly very serious.

"There is nothing that Kenshin fears more in this life than losing you." Mr. Hiko returned his attention to the wavering blossoms, tracing them as they fell in unknowable patterns from the twisted branches high above their heads. "Perhaps he's never said it, but you should know how he feels by now."

_I do_, she wanted to protest, but something in his face stopped her.

"He asked you to be his wife. You accepted. Do you understand what that means?"

The remaining petals shivered in the breeze, sunlight refracting through them into spears of brilliant white tipped with rainbow. Kaoru turned her face to the warmth, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"…it means he'll stay," she said finally. "He won't go wandering off again."

"Won't he?" There was nothing arch or wry in his face now, only a remote kind of _focus_, as if he was instructing her – and maybe he was, she realized, with an odd lurch of her stomach. He was the closest thing to a father that Kenshin had, after all.

"Might a husband not choose to travel far from his wife, for whatever reason?"

A street vendor called. Kaoru did not let herself shiver.

"…yes. But I wouldn't _let_ him," she said, fiercely. "I'd come after him, like I did in Kyoto – I won't let him leave again, I won't let his past take him – "

"Then why did you hesitate to speak to him?" Mr. Hiko looked curiously at her, almost bored, the side of his face propped against one fist. "You knew he hadn't been sleeping."

"That was different – "

"How?"

Kaoru had no answer. For a long moment there was only silence between them, punctuated by the vendors' calls, by the rustling of the leaves and the blossoms. The quiet chatter from the tea shop.

_Half of me is angry. The other half is somewhat… relieved_.

Relieved. Such a strange thing to say – not happy to see her. Relieved. As if a burden had been lessened, when really she'd only _added_ to his burdens, chasing him halfway across Japan, into the middle of terrible danger and intrigue – providing his enemies with a target, one they'd been only too happy to exploit –

_Miss Kaoru_. He'd smiled at her, sitting there in the dojo as they all ate lunch, the first true smile of his she'd seen since that morning on the bridge, that morning when Enishi had delivered the news of his vengeance. _I'd like some more, as well_.

_Are you unhurt?_

The first thing he'd asked, after that horrible battle, blood soaking from his wounds to the sand below.

_Are you unhurt?_

And then he'd collapsed in her arms, a soft exclamation slipping from his lips, as if he had every right to be there.

"…It's not different at all, is it?" Kaoru said, at long last. Mr. Hiko gave a quick, bare smile.

"It took the idiot twice as long to figure out what _he'd_ done wrong," he said, approvingly. "I knew he'd chosen well in you."

* * *

When Kenshin told her about the nightmares on his own, she wasn't exactly surprised; Mr. Hiko often had that effect. She only held him close and told him that she was real, that she wasn't going anywhere, and that seemed to be enough.

The morning afterwards, she asked him if he'd slept well.

_No nightmares?_

He shook his head.

_Some, but they were only dreams_.


End file.
